


Making Snowmen

by WaitingForArthur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Fledgling Castiel, Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForArthur/pseuds/WaitingForArthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a toddler. How? Who knows, but his childish instincts kick in and he begs Dean to play in the snow with him. A quick little one-shot that takes place after The Great Escapist (Season 8 Episode 21).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Snowmen

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a month or two ago when my fledgling!castiel feelings were on a high. I just love little Cas!!!

Castiel sat on the floor by Dean’s feet, quietly playing with the hunter’s mud caked shoelaces.  Dean didn’t mind or care that Cas played with them, he was too busy pouring over a book about de-aging spells.  The sound of turning pages filled the room, occasionally accompanied by the swooshing of Castiel’s wings. 

No one was sure how it happened, but Dean and Sam woke up to a crying, screaming toddler.  They ran all over the bunker looking for the source of the noise.  The noise had died down, but they continued the search as little sobs echoed throughout the bunker.  When they arrived to Cas’ room, they stood in the doorway in shock; for they had found a naked toddler, drowning in a pair of Dean’s old pajamas.

Sam and Dean did so much research they barely slept.  Just the night before they were cleaning up Cas’ wounds after finding him in the middle of the road.  There were still marks on little Castiel, he hadn’t fully recovered yet, which was why he was crying in fear and pain.

With no one to contact, Dean and Sam were left to find a cure for Cas all on their own.

Dean slammed the book closed; frustrated that it couldn’t tell him anything.  He heard a little gasp from below. Bending over he saw Castiel holding his shoe laces in mid-air, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s okay, Cas, we’ll figure this out, I promise. Come here,” Dean held out his hands for the little angel, who crawled over and accepted his open arms.  His lip trembled and tears started pooling in his eyes. “Does it still hurt?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder. Dean patted the angel’s back lightly, careful not to hurt him or his fragile wings.  Dean guessed it was only bruised ribs now, there was only a faded scar where a gaping hole use to be, and the bullet hole was completely gone, before Cas changed, thank God. 

Cas jerked suddenly and wiggled out of Dean’s arms.  With a wince, he jumped to the ground and tootled out of the kitchen.  Dean shook his head, that angel’s brain was a wonder.  He poured himself a hot cup of coffee and settled back into the chair, reaching for the next book.

“Dean?” Castiel’s little, soft voice spoke from the doorway.  Dean spun in his chair to see what Cas wanted.  Castiel was standing, his toes pointing inwards and his hands hung lazily at his side.

“What’s up, Cas?”

Cas shuffled his foot and hung his head, “It’s snowing.” He looked up at Dean, his blue eyes lit with excitement. 

“Okay?”

Cas’ face fell a little, “Can we go out and play?” He looked down at his feet, and then peaked up to see Dean’s reaction.

Dean sighed, “Cas…” but he stopped.  The angel’s shoulders drooped and his face scrunched up, hurt.  Dean didn’t know if it was from his bruises or from Dean’s exasperated sigh, but he just couldn’t say ‘no’ to him now.

“Alright, but we need to bundle you up.  Celestial or not, it’s cold out there.” Dean scooped up the smiling toddler and took him to his room.  He searched his whole closet for something that would work.  They hadn’t actually had time to get Cas new clothes, so they had been putting him in the smallest clothes they could find and, haphazardly sewing up what they could.  Dean could find nothing suitable for Cas.  He turned around and panicked, Castiel was nowhere to be seen.  Not a second later a muffled giggle was heard from beneath the mountain of clothes on the bed.

Laughing, Dean pulled Cas out of the heap, “Sorry little buddy. Cas, I can’t find anything for you.” Castiel squinted at Dean, and then searched the room. He held up a finger and scrambled off the bed. He ran out of the room and down the hallway.  Dean followed, utterly confused by Cas’ behavior.  Cas stopped in front of a closet and was jumping up and down trying to reach the door knob.

“Hold on, hold on, Cas, stop I’ll get it.” He opened the door and clicked on the light.  The light glowed dimly, revealing a small closet stuffed with dusty boxes.  Cas scooted past Dean’s legs and looked up at the boxes.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

“There, Dean, there!” He said, pointing up at a small, dingy box, shoved in the corner.  Dean glanced down at Cas and reached for the box.  Setting it on the floor in the hallway, Cas tore it open as Dean sat down next to him.

“Alright, Cas, what’s in here?” Dean lifted up the flap of the box and stared at its contents.  Inside the box there were clothes, baby clothes. “What the-“

“Sammy’s clothes, Dean, these are yours and Sammy’s clothes,” Cas said, pulling out a pair of toddler jeans.

“But-how? We’ve never been here before.  How the hell did these get here?” Dean picked up a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of gloves. “Cas, how did you find these? How do you know they’re ours?”

“I’m your guardian angel, Dean.  I can…sense your touch on them.” Cas looked up innocently at Dean.

“That doesn’t explain why they’re here, though.”

“Bobby?” Cas suggested.

“Maybe…well come on, let’s get you dressed.”

Dean dressed Cas in the long sleeve shirt, a pair of toddler jeans and a winter coat.  All of them had once belonged to Dean.  They must’ve bought them after the fire, there were a few baby clothes too, but everything else that Sam wore were hand-me-downs from Dean.  He also found a small, knitted hat and boots. “Wow, everything is in here. Ready, Cas-“ Dean stopped short and laughed at the site in front of him. “Cas, you look like a marshmallow.”

Cas giggled, “I’m very warm, Dean, but I can’t move my wings!” He started wiggling and struggling against the fabric, his wings begging to burst free.

“Don’t get your wings in a bunch, hold on,” Dean pulled open a bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. “Come here.” He cut two slits through the coat and shirt, Cas’ wings burst out, flapping for air.

“Thanks Dean! Let’s go!”

“Alright, alright,” Dean chuckled.  Grabbing up his coat, he scooped up Cas and headed for the door.  As they walked out, Cas grabbed a knitted hat for Dean too.  He reached up and put it on Dean’s head.

“Don’t want cold ears,” he said quietly. Dean simply smiled.

They were greeted with a gust of wind and a face full of snowflakes. Cas laughed and reached out for the large, white flakes, “They’re so big, Dean! Big and beautiful!”

“Whatever you say buddy,” Dean replied. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Cas squinted up at the sky and then at Dean.  He reached his small hands out and brushed a snowflake from Dean’s cheek. “I wanna make a snowman,” He replied.

Dean laughed, “Snowman it is.” He put Cas down, who sank into the snow. “Can you walk?”

Cas fell over, giggling with delight, “I can make it!”

Dean and Castiel, slowly, walked over to the open field.  Cas was covered in fresh, wet snow, but smiling nonetheless.

“Alright, um, so let’s roll up some snow,” Dean said.  He got to his knees and started balling up snow in his hand.  Castiel watched him work the snow until it was big enough to start rolling on the ground.  He walked alongside Dean, adding little balls of snow to the large one that Dean was rolling.  They did this two more times and Dean piled them on top of each other. 

They made the snowman in silence, Castiel gasping at the wind when it blew too hard.  He would wrap himself up in his wings and wait for the wind to die down.  Dean watched the little angel work his way through the snow and help Dean.  He was amazed by Castiel’s attention to the little things; the way he would watch a crow struggle against the wind, or how the wind shaped the snow into intricate swirls.  Dean would watch with him, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking at, but it didn’t matter. It was peaceful, and Dean enjoyed the company of his little angel.

He was watching one crow with Castiel and hadn’t noticed that Cas stopped and was now looking at him.  His head was cocked to the side, his black hair sticking out of his hat.  “Whatchya lookin’ at Dean?”

“I was-I was watching the bird with you,” he stammered.  Cas climbed over the snow and reached his hands towards Dean.  Recognizing the gesture, Dean picked Cas up.

“And?”

“And what?” He asked as he adjusted Cas on his hip.

“The bird, Dean? What did you think of the bird?”

“Um, it was…it was a crow.  Why? What did you think of the bird?”

Castiel put his finger to his cheek as if he was thinking and he looked up at the bird again. “I think it’s brave.  It’s trying to fly in the wind and get home to his family.  Would you go out in a hurricane or a big storm to reach your family, Dean?”

“Of course I would,” Dean said smiling. “Wow, Cas, you know I thought you’d use smaller words, but man.  You still think like big Castiel, huh?”

Cas shook his head, “Not entirely.”

Dean chuckled and shifted Cas’ weight again, “Alright, well let’s finish this snowman and get inside.  I can’t feel my toes.”

“Your nose is red too!” Cas put his hands over Dean’s nose as an attempt to warm it up.  Dean just laughed and nipped at Cas’ nose with his forefinger and thumb. 

Cas giggled and pointed at the snowman, “He needs a nose too!”

“He also needs eyes, and a mouth…”

“…and arms! Dean put me down!” Cas wriggled under Dean’s hold.  Dean placed him in the snow and the little angel was off. 

Dean watched as he ran around the field looking for twigs and rocks.  His little wings flapped in the wind and his laugh carried across the field.  He stumbled as he ran back to Dean.  Cas dropped an armful of random items in front of him.

“Pick me up!”

Dean obliged. “What’s first, Cas?”

Cas pointed at the rocks, “The rocks!”

Dean bent down and picked up the rocks.  He handed them to Castiel who then leaned towards the snowman and put them in their rightful places.  The snowman had a face now.

“Sticks, for the arms!”  Those too, went on.

“There, all done.  Looks good, Cas!” Dean smiled at the angel. “What’s wrong?” The angel looked deep in thought.

“He’s missing something.”

Dean looked at the snowman.  Everything was there; eyes, nose, mouth, arms…what else did it need?

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder, “Wings.”

“Oh…he’s an angel?”

Cas nodded.

“Hmm.” What were they going to use as wings? “Wait here, Cas.” He put Cas down and ran over to the group of trees.  He found sticks of all sizes.  Gathering them up, he brought them back to the angel.

He put the sticks into the back of the snowman so they stuck out to the side, the longer ones on top and smaller ones as he worked down.  It looked like wings without the feathers, but it had the basic outline. 

“How’s that?” Dean asked, hoping for the toddler’s acceptance. It looked like an angel whose feathers had fallen off, like leaves on a tree.  It looked rag tagged and kind of creepy.

To Dean’s surprise, Cas’ smile reached ear to ear and he ran towards Dean, screeching with delight. He jumped into Dean’s arms, who pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s perfectly, imperfect.” He said into Dean’s neck.

“Thanks, Cas. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know it’s because you need me.”

His heart pounded and he looked at the shivering angel in his arms.  He remembered.  He remembered what Dean said to him to get him to realize his place is with them, with Dean.

Cas placed a hand on Dean’s cheek, just like he had in the crypt. The corner of his little mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile.  He looked sad, and Dean couldn’t hold it in any more.  He felt a tear roll down his cheek and meet Cas’ hand.  Cas moved his hand to wipe away the tear.  His face scrunched up.

“Don’t cry Dean.” He leaned into Dean’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

Dean chuckled and as he hugged Castiel back he said, “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Cas’ wings fluttered, hitting Dean in the face and sprinkling snow in his hair. Dean laughed and Cas giggled. 

They were back inside, dry and in warm clothes.  Castiel was in one of Dean’s sweatshirts that trailed on the floor as he walked.  Dean flopped down on the couch, stretching his feet out.  He closed his eyes; snowman making was an exhausting ordeal.  He was drifting off when he felt weight on his right side.  He turned his head and saw Cas, standing next to the couch and biting his lip.

Without waiting for an invitation, Cas climbed up onto Dean.  He burrowed into the space between the back of the couch and Dean’s side, his head resting on Dean’s chest.  Dean patted his curly, dark hair and tossed the blanket from the back of the couch, over them. 

Castiel snuggled into Dean as they drifted off to sleep, his little wings fluttering under the sweatshirt.  Dean smiled and pressed his lips to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Love you little buddy,” He whispered to the angel. He fell asleep, dreaming of a little angel running around in the snow, watching the crows as they flew overhead.


End file.
